Craig Bats for the Other Team
by Sleeves
Summary: Craig figures out something important. Craig x Tweek. I mean, what else?


_A/N:_ Pretty old one-shot I started a while back. Jeez, has it really been that long? It's hard to believe, considering how much I love writing Craig and Tweek.

**Craig Bats for the Other Team**

—

God, he wished she would shut up. Somehow, Craig and his girlfriend were fighting, only he didn't know why because he hadn't been paying any attention to her.

"Are you even listening to me?"

_Not really._

"Not really," he told her. Craig had always been a straight shooter. He had a filter—a very good one, actually—but he really knew how to speak his mind when he felt like it.

"You're so insensitive. All you care about is yourself! You're such an asshole, Craig!"

_Yeah, well you're a bitch_.

"You're a bitch," he said.

And he flipped her off, earning himself an angry cry of disgust. She whirled around and stormed away in tears, leaving Craig and his middle finger in the middle of town on God-Knows-What Street, alone and girlfriendless. Not that he cared. No girlfriend had ever really made him happy, especially not that dumb tramp.

He didn't know how it had all gone to hell (not that he cared). He'd _tried _to be nice to his girlfriend and take her out for the night, but _Christ_, she never stopped talking about things Craig couldn't care less about. There was only so much he could handle coming from a girl he didn't even really care about. He was sort of glad they'd had that fight. That meant he'd probably never see her again.

It wounded his pride, though, being left in the cold while his girlfriend walked out on him. Feeling a bit huffy, he pushed his way into the nearest building to escape from the cold and figure out what to do next.

He tried to make a run for it as soon as he realized what he'd just walked into, but his legs seemed to be stuck.

A quick scan of the room told him he was most definitely in some sort of promiscuous bar. The lighting was dim, the air smelled like cigarettes and alcohol, and scantily-clad employees were flitting around the place, shooting seductive glances at the hungry eyes that followed them. But the employees weren't women. They were _dudes_. And as he realized this, taking in the sight of the club with horror in his eyes and tightness in his jeans, he realized something else.

_Oh my god._

_I think I'm gay_.

The fact that this thought was even crossing his mind was reason enough to turn and walk out the door and pretend he hadn't seen anything. He didn't want a night of sexual goddamn discovery. All he'd wanted was to take his annoying girlfriend out on a date, and look where it had landed him. Craig knew there was a reason why he preferred to just stay at home on Friday nights.

At home everything was nice and boring, just the way he liked it.

—

It had been a week since Craig had found himself questioning his sexuality. He tried to reason with himself: he watched straight porn like a normal hormone-ridden male. He'd had sex with _women_. A fair amount of women. And he'd only tried anal maybe once or twice when he was drunk—with _women_. If you add that all up, Craig told himself, it definitely makes a guy not-gay. And Craig was definitely not-gay.

It was a Friday night again, and Craig was at home. "Home" was a loose term referring to a crappy little apartment in an equally crappy neighborhood in his crappy hometown. He'd moved out because he couldn't stand living with his parents harassing him about not wanting to go to college. And right now Craig considered himself to be in pretty bad shape—he was out of high school, living by himself, currently jobless, questioning his sexuality, and searching for gay porn on the internet.

He couldn't believe he was really doing this, but there was only one way to figure out whether a guy's gay, Craig told himself. Actually, there were lots of ways. But he considered this to be the most direct and least life-changing. And he didn't want to think about the alternatives.

His finger hovered over the mouse, hesitating to click the first link of the search results. Was this really such a smart idea?

_Once you see this, you can't un-see it_.

And why the hell was he making such a big deal about it? With a weary glare at the computer screen, Craig heaved a defeated sigh and clicked.

It was just like straight porn, kind of. Only both of them had dicks. It was the same damn concept, right? About thirty seconds into the video, Craig began to relax. He'd expected something a lot...weirder. This didn't bother him at all.

He unzipped his pants to see if he could get off to this, and then the situation clicked in his head.

_Craig buddy, you're jacking off to gay porn_.

"God damn it!" he yelled, slamming his fists on the keyboard, then scrambling for the mouse and shutting the window. Even though the screen was empty, the image was still burned into Craig's head. It didn't make any sense—he'd gotten off to straight porn all the goddamn _time_. That meant he had to be _half_-straight. Or something.

So he decided if he was half-gay and half-straight, he could have the best of both worlds. On a Friday night in his crappy apartment after watching just a tiny bit of gay porn, Craig decided that if somebody wants to sleep with you, it shouldn't matter if it's a dude or a chick, because either way you're getting laid.

But he didn't have another girlfriend for a month, and then three months, and then six months. It was kind of a nice feeling.

—

Craig rarely ever drank coffee. In fact, he had no idea what brought him into Harbucks that day except that he was tired and passing by while trudging through the snow with nowhere else to be. And the sign in the window that read "40 years of Tweekers" made him laugh a little, for some strange reason. Must have been some kind of partnership between Harbucks and Tweek Bros., or something. Maybe the coffee wouldn't be so shitty.

The bell on the door chimed as he stepped in, bringing with him a gust of chilly air. The guy at the counter looked familiar. His hair was yellow—askew and ratty as if it had been ripped out in places, his small body was shaking, and his eyes were wide and twitching a little.

_Very _familiar.

"Hey, Tweek. It's been a while."

"Ergh! Craig?"

"Yeah. I didn't know you still worked here." Craig eyed the menu hanging over the counter. "Mm. I'll have a latte thing. Um, like the kind of coffee pussies drink."

His eyes fell on the cup of black coffee shaking in Tweek's hands. "Yeah, opposite of that."

"Ack—flavored?"

"Yeah, sure," Craig said, shifting his eyes to Tweek. "Just give me whatever. Make it good."

Craig watched Tweek's shaky hands, afraid the spastic blond would spill the coffee all over the floor with each jerk of his limbs. But Tweek was good at his job—he'd been doing this for years as a side job in school and from the looks of it, he worked here full time now. Despite his constant twitching, he didn't spill a drop.

"Here you go." Tweek thrust the beverage at Craig, who handed him a twenty dollar bill in return.

"Your change." Tweek held out the money with a nervous smile.

"Keep it." Craig waved him away and sauntered out the door, sipping the latte. Half-turning, he raised a hand in farewell and said, "Hey, this is really good."

Tweek stared at him. The bills shook in his hand.

"Oh, Jesus! Th-thank you for...coming to Harbucks."

—

He came again the following week. The bell chimed and Tweek jumped, squeaking "Craig!"

"Hey, Tweek." Craig offered him a smile. He hadn't realized how much he really wanted to come back to the little coffee shop until he finally left his apartment that morning. He'd needed to get out after locking himself up with no explanation for a week.

"Same as last time," Craig told him.

"Okay." Tweek nodded, shuffling behind the counter.

"You remember what you did last time?"

Tweek's scraggly blond head turned and he nodded again. "Of course."

Craig took a sip of the wonderful, sweet drink once Tweek handed it over. It was as delicious as before—maybe even better this time.

"Mmm." He nodded his approval, putting the cup back down on the counter and reaching into his pocket for payment.

Tweek held up his hand. "N-no. It's on me."

Craig raised a brow.

"Last time... I-I mean," Tweek sputtered, searching for words, "...you know."

"No, Tweek." Craig propped both elbows on the counter, leaning in. He wouldn't smile. It was more fun to intimidate Tweek with his dead stare. "Tell me."

"You—_aaagh_! Gave me a twenty for a drink and didn't accept the change!" Tweek practically yelled, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. Then he seemed to calm down, lowering his voice to a shaky little mumble. "I've never gotten a tip like that. All I do is—m-make coffee. I've never gotten a tip like that. I don't _deserve _a tip like that."

He paused for a moment to keep himself from hyperventilating or having an aneurism or whatever Tweek had to keep himself from doing, Craig supposed, and then drew a deep breath and said, "So it's on me this time."

"I was hoping you'd use the money to buy something nice for yourself," Craig said, leaning forward a little.

"I—I did." Tweek smiled down at the latte sitting between them on the counter.

"Uh, Tweek, that drink's for _me_." Craig cocked a brow.

"Same thing," Tweek said, the small smile still on his lips.

Craig straightened up.

"You're a weird kid, yanno Tweek?"

That night, Craig had dreams that scared the crap out of him. He was lying on his couch watching TV when there was a knock at his door. The jittery blond stood in the hall with a shy, expectant smile on his face and a cup of Harbucks coffee in his hands.

Craig took it, since Tweek had gone through the effort of making it and personally delivering it, and took a sip.

"It's great," he told Tweek, who beamed at him. It _was _great. The twitchy little freak had a magic touch.

"I had to come bring it to you," he said, stepping inside and taking a seat beside Craig on the couch. "I miss you. You haven't been to Harbucks in weeks."

Craig just stared at him, distantly aware of the light touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"Really, Craig...I miss you so much." Then Tweek's hand retreated, and to Craig's speechless disbelief, he began undoing the crooked buttons on his shirt. In one fluid motion Tweek had finished, leaving the fabric hanging limp around his exposed chest, and slid into Craig's lap, squirming around a little—but really, it was more like grinding—to find a comfortable position. He gazed down at Craig with adoring eyes, his soft lips slightly parted, a little shaky. "Craig...I want..."

"JESUSCHRIST!" Craig shrieked, sitting up so abruptly that his skull cracked into the wooden headboard and sent waves of pain ricocheting through his head. A dream—a dream—holy _shit_, a dream. It was the gayest and most horrifying and most arousing and most disturbing dream he had ever had.

"Tweek," he groaned, rolling over. "Who'da thought?"

He watched Tweek more carefully the next time he came to Harbucks. He couldn't stay away, really—it must have been fear of Tweek showing up on his doorstep and sexually harassing him. Unless he simply enjoyed Tweek's company. But who would enjoy the company of such a weird kid?

"Hi, Craig!"

Those eyes. Those eyes halted Craig in his tracks. So happy, so bright. Tweek had such big eyes.

"Uh. Hi. One frilly-ass latte, please," Craig said, clearing his head and sliding up to the counter. "You know how I like it."

Tweek beamed at him. "Yeah."

Tweek's wrists were so skinny. His slender, shaky hands moved like little white butterflies, preparing the sweet coffee for Craig. The Harbucks apron, tied neatly around Tweek's waist, hugged his hips and accentuated them ever so slightly. And his jeans, so tight in the back...

_Damn._

Craig couldn't believe it. There was absolutely nothing attractive about Tweek. He was awkward, twitchy, unkempt.

Tweek turned around with the successfully completed beverage, his straw hair fanning out behind him like a halo and a huge smile on his face.

_Beautiful_.

"Hey, Tweek."

"Yeah?" Tweek placed the beverage on the counter in front of Craig.

"You wanna go out sometime?"

There it was, before Craig could stop himself. Tweek looked like a petrified animal, so small and thin behind the counter, with his wide eyes and fidgety hands.

"Out? You mean like...out for c-coffee?"

"No, stupid." Craig rolled his eyes. "This is a coffee shop. I mean _out_."

"I-I—oh god!" Tweek was a stammering mess. His hands shot up, snatching at tufts of his hair.

"Hey, stop. Don't freak out." Craig reached out, catching Tweek's wrists in his firm grip. The skin was so warm, despite its lack of color. He gently directed Tweek's arms back down, staring hard into Tweek's eyes. "Forget it."

"But I—"

Craig's hands closed harder around Tweek's wrists. "Forget it."

He slapped a bill on the counter and headed out.

Craig wandered around a bit, kicking up tufts of snow with his boots as he went. Well, _that _was certainly a fuck-up if there ever was one. He wasn't used to people shitting their pants when he asked them out. Then again, this was Tweek. Tweek shit his pants over practically everything. He hadn't changed since high school, not a bit.

Then again, thought Craig, neither had _he_, really. Aside from the whole discovering he was gay thing. Well, _half _gay. Sort of gay. And maybe—maybe just a _little_ gay for the twitchy dweeb from school who couldn't even button his shirt properly.

Craig sighed, his breath rising in a fog. He'd never been turned down _that _badly. Not that he could remember, anyway. And he'd never seen Tweek look so scared.

He made it back to his apartment and collapsed on the couch, staring at the ceiling. For some reason, Craig felt very unhappy. It wasn't just the rejection that stung. There was a sad, lingering feeling that it really should have worked out. That they went way back, that they had been friends in elementary school, that Tweek should have _wanted_ to hang out with him.

_Go _out, he reminded himself. He'd asked Tweek to _go _out with him.

Slightly different story.

He sighed and rolled over, glaring at the upholstery. It was light gray, blotted with old stains, and very ugly. It had been in the apartment when he moved in. The previous occupant had clearly thought it sinfully hideous too, and had chosen to leave it behind.

Tired of looking at it already and feeling restless, Craig rolled over again and winced. His cell phone was still in the pocket of his jeans, digging into his hip. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Six missed calls. Oh.

Wait—what the _fuck?_

"What the _fuck?_" Craig said to his cell phone. No one ever called him. His phone was always silenced because there never _were_ any calls for him to answer. When there were, they were usually from his mother, and he didn't want to talk to her. When was the last time he'd checked his phone?

He tried to think back as he flipped the phone open and turned it on vibrate, deciding that he never wanted to see a stack of six missed calls all at once again. They were all from the same number, one that Craig didn't recognize. Who the hell would want to talk to him this badly? The last time he looked at his phone must have been when he was checking the time, which, as far as he remembered, was right before he entered Harbucks.

_Oh god._

The phone suddenly buzzed in his hand. Craig jumped, almost dropping it. Then, after a long moment of staring at that same number from his missed calls list, he took a deep breath and answered.

"Hello?"

"_CRAIG!_"

He almost dropped the phone again, but this time it was because the person on the other end was screaming.

"_CRAIG?_" screeched a voice that couldn't have belonged to anyone but Tweek. "Are you there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here! Jesus Christ!" Craig shouted back. He then exhaled deeply and continued in a level voice, "Fuck! Tweek, what are you, like, dying?"

"N-no!" Tweek sounded terrified at the thought.

"Are you being attacked?"

"No," Tweek repeated, a little softer, but still at a pitch that set Craig's teeth on edge.

"Are buildings collapsing around you?" Craig continued.

"Ah—no." Tweek's voice was almost down to a normal level.

"Any personal crisis or natural disaster I might've missed?" Craig drawled, pulling at a lock of his hair and inspecting it.

"No." Tweek sounded like a sad puppy.

"Then please, for the love of god, do _not _scream into the phone," Craig finished, feeling exhausted already.

"Okay," Tweek whispered. Craig could practically _feel _him twitching through the phone. Tweek was quiet for about twenty seconds. Craig supposed he had intimidated the crap out of the poor guy.

"How the hell did you get this number?" Craig demanded.

"C-Clyde gave it to me," Tweek stammered. "I uh—asked him for it."

"Nice."

_Fucking Clyde._

"So. To what do I owe this, uh...pleasure?" Craig tried to sound nice, but ended up coming off as extremely sarcastic.

"I just—I just—!" Tweek stammered taking a deep, shuddery breath, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For what happened. You know, at Harbucks."

Craig was about to tell him to forget about it, but it sounded like Tweek had more to say. He'd drawn another heavy breath.

"I just...I get so nervous," he went on. Craig closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He could see Tweek, alone and scared, fidgeting and trying not to drop the phone. "Sometimes—nngh! Sometimes I just _freak out! _I just freak out, you know? _Ouch!_"

He must have ripped out a handful of hair.

"And, and then I say something wrong," Tweek went on after a few seconds of deep breathing. Craig closed his eyes and saw the blond's slender chest rise and fall, shaking a little with each breath. "I didn't expect you to—to do that. I-I mean, I never thought you'd ever actually—_you_, Craig—oh god! _Agh!_"

This had turned into the most interesting phone call Craig had ever had. He led the panicking blond on with an interested "Mmm?"

"I thought I was dreaming," Tweek blurted out. "I didn't know what to say. Well, I mean—I tried to say yes but—it was way—too much—"

"_Oh._" The corner of Craig's mouth twitched. "So you _do _want to go out with me."

There was a muffled cry of what Craig could only assume was either overwhelming joy or intense pain, a click, and then a long beep.

Craig flopped down onto his back, flashing a wide grin at the ceiling.

"Too much pressure, huh?"

He was starting to understand why he'd fallen so hard for that silly bastard. Tweek was such a fun kid.

—

Craig pretended he wasn't unbearably excited and desperate to see Tweek again. He took casual, measured steps to Harbucks the next day and maintained his perfect impassive frown as he stepped inside. The trembling blond behind the counter was not so composed.

The cheery _tink!_ of the door chime made Tweek yelp and drop an entire pot full of coffee, which shattered on the floor and spilled all over his apron, pants, and shoes. In the panic that followed as he tried to scoop up the shards of glass, Tweek then managed to slip on the hot mess he'd made, falling backward and landing on the wet tiles with a muffled _thump_. It happened all in an instant, before the door had even shut behind Craig.

"Owww..." came the distant moan of pain behind the counter.

Craig headed over and peered down at Tweek, who looked close to tears. He sighed, turned, and headed to the door. After flipping the "Open" sign to read "Closed" and giving the middle finger to an irritated looking man who had been trying to enter the building, he headed back to Tweek.

"I see you've fallen for me," he monotoned down to the shaking heap on the floor.

"That's not funny, Craig!" Tweek shouted, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. He was lying on his back, glaring up at Craig with glassy, tear-filled eyes. He gave a little moan of pain as the coffee seeped through his clothes and burned his skin.

_Soft, pale skin._

Craig grabbed the edge of the counter and hoisted himself over it, taking extra care not to land on Tweek as he jumped to the other side. He knelt down beside Tweek and slipped a hand under the skinny, shaking blond, pushing him up into a sitting position.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tweek nodded. He plucked a slice of glass out of his palm, looking very uncomfortable.

"Hit your head or anything?" Craig grabbed Tweek's hand, inspecting the little dribble of blood. He felt along Tweek's arms for any more glass, fingers gliding along the soft, white skin and circling those frail, bony wrists.

"No, I-I'm okay." Tweek flushed and went silent, looking down. He had such big eyes.

"Want me to take you home?" Craig asked as his hand developed a mind of its own, running through twisted blond locks with hypnotic reverence.

_You're so soft, Tweek_.

Craig had a filter for a reason.

"N-no, I can't go home." Tweek looked miserable, sniffling and staring down at the coffee stains that ran the length of his lower half. It was strange how much damage one pot of coffee could cause. "I've got three more hours left in my shift—I _can't_. I've got to serve people their coffee."

Craig almost laughed at how serious Tweek looked. Determination blazed in his huge green eyes and his jaw was set with something that almost looked like confidence.

"Don't worry, Harbucks is closed now. You can stop working."

"_What?_" Tweek's eyes shot from the mess on the floor to Craig's face.

"Yup." He picked a glittering piece of glass out of Tweek's hair. "I closed up for you."

"Craig!" Tweek screeched, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "You can't _do _that!"

"Honestly, I don't give a shit," he said in his calm, level voice. "Now come on, let's get you home."

Tweek shook his head. "I _can't _go home. If my parents find out I left in the middle of my shift—oh, god! They'll kill me!"

"Then I guess you're coming to my place."

He slid a hand down Tweek's torso and along the blond's slender left hip.

"_Gah! _What are you doing?" Tweek asked in a high, panicked voice, every muscle in his body stiffening.

"Looking for your keys," Craig told him, feeling along Tweek's leg. "Back pocket?" he murmured, running his hand along the curve of Tweek's hip to his backside.

"My _other _side pocket, _Jesus_, Craig!" Tweek shrieked, finally unfreezing and whipping the keys out of his right pocket. He jammed them into Craig's hand with a huff, looking so pouty and flustered and irresistible.

"Thanks." Craig straightened up, looking as unreadable as ever, and hopped over the counter again.

"You know," came Tweek's voice from the floor as Craig headed to the front door and locked it, "there's a door."

Craig's eyes fell on the little swinging door that led behind the counter.

"Huh. Would ya look at that."

He crossed behind the counter one last time, swept up the glass, and mopped up the coffee. Then he scooped Tweek up without warning, drawing a fearful squeak from the smaller boy.

_Light as a feather._

The trembling blond looked extremely ruffled about being held bridal style, but no matter how much he thrashed around, he still weighed at least thirty pounds less than Craig and was less than half as strong. He seemed to realize he was fighting a losing battle, and ended up closing his eyes and shutting out all the odd stares as they exited the now darkened building, covered in coffee and looking just like lovers.

Craig had a different way of dealing with people. He said things like "What the hell are you looking at?" and "Suck my dick" and didn't try to curl up and make himself as small as possible like Tweek did.

Tweek opened his eyes and looked up at Craig, murmuring, "You shouldn't say things like that. It's not nice."

Craig gazed down at him, looking bored. Inside, his brain was scrapping everything that could give him away.

_Tweek, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen._

_Your eyes are so big._

_You are so fucking soft._

_I want to make love to you._

What he said instead was, "Since when have I ever been nice?"

"W-well, you never know when you might offend someone—a-and then they'll go out and hire a hitman and, and when you're on the way home and it's dark out and no one can see you or hear you, he'll come and—argh! He'll get you! Right between your eyes, man!"

"Shhh."

_I want to kiss you right here in the snow, in the middle of everyone. _

"We're here."

Tweek stared up at the apartment complex, not exactly looking thrilled. Craig realized it looked even shoddier than usual and shifted on his feet a little, saying, "Well, none of _my _windows are broken. And, uh, the people are really nice."

He skirted around a couple smashed bottles and a sleeping homeless man, stepping inside and whisking Tweek right by the elevator doors that read "Out of Service." Despite Tweek's frail, light body barely causing him any trouble on the way to the apartment, the stairs were a real bitch. Craig was sweating a little by the time they reached his place on the fifth floor, and his breathing wasn't exactly even.

"Mind grabbing my keys?" he asked, giving Tweek a very small and polite smile.

"Dare I ask where you keep them? Not—not in your crotch, I hope?"

Craig couldn't hold it in. His stoic mask broke as he exploded with laughter, making sure to squeeze Tweek tight so he didn't drop him. Who knew little Tweek could be so damn cheeky?

"God, you're amazing," he breathed. He paused, gathering himself, quickly patching up his failing filter—which was a good thing, because the next thought that crossed his mind was one better left unsaid.

_I think I love you, Tweek._

"In my coat pocket," Craig said once he had collected himself. Tweek twisted a little in his arms, reaching into Craig's pocket.

_Don't ever stop touching me._

Tweek slid the key into the lock and turned, and Craig wedged his shoulder into the door, pushing it open and carrying Tweek inside. He deposited Tweek gently on the ugly couch and knelt down, leaning in close to Tweek and breathing in the smell of coffee that clung to him.

"Guess you need a change of clothes, huh?"

Tweek shifted a little, looking down. "It...stopped burning a while ago."

"Still," Craig said, slipping his hands around Tweek's back and undoing the knot that held his apron together. "You're a mess."

He slipped the green apron off and held it up, inspecting the brown blotches that fringed the bottom. "Kinda gives it character, don't you think?"

Tweek shot him a weary look. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno, kinda like you." Craig trailed his fingers over Tweek's mismatched buttons. "You're not perfect, either. See, you can't even button your shirt. And you're real twitchy, and your hair is a mess. But it gives you character, you know? If you took all that stuff away, it wouldn't be you."

He slipped his hand into Tweek's, rubbing his thumb in little circles over the back of Tweek's hand. Tweek looked disbelieving, unsure.

"Promise you won't flip your shit?" Craig asked in a gentle voice, still rubbing calming circles on Tweek's hand.

"N-no guarantees," Tweek whispered back, trembling.

"Okay." Craig leaned in a little, cupping Tweek's face in his opposite hand. Tweek was holding his breath, hardly daring to move. "I'm going to take off your pants now."

The look on Tweek's face was to die for.

"What the heck, Craig!" he shouted, jerking his hand away from Craig's. "God, don't _do _that! I-I thought you were gonna just kiss me or something, Jesus!"

"Oh." Craig's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, and he leaned in closer to the shaking blond. "Do you want me to?"

Tweek averted his eyes, fidgeting with his hands. "I mean, I—I just thought..."

Craig closed the distance in an instant, caught Tweek's lips—so soft, just like the rest of him—and pressed down on him, chest-to-chest, in a deep, long kiss. Their mouths fit together in the most perfect sort of way, and Craig could have sworn Tweek gave a tiny, blissful sigh and leaned back against him. He trailed his tongue, slow and gentle, along Tweek's bottom lip, and the blond let him in—just like that, and _god, yes_, Craig could feel his entire body thrumming in time with Tweek's racing pulse—and this was a kiss unlike any other kiss Craig had had in his whole life. _This _was living—_this _was his first kiss. This was the first kiss that meant something.

When he finally pulled away, Craig was breathing heavily and his whole body was burning. A flicker of surprise flitted across the confused, disastrous spectrum of emotions squeezing down on his chest—had he ever gotten hard from just a kiss before? He couldn't remember—couldn't concentrate on anything except the blond in his arms, who was looking up at him with more reverence than had ever been present on Sunday in the musty town church, like Craig was the light of the world, like Craig was a god.

"Tweek," Craig breathed. His voice had never sounded so broken. The adoration in Tweek's eyes did something strange and terrible to him, wearing away at his judgment and self-control. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs, he felt almost sick.

_Please, Tweek, god, please. Please let me make love to you._

And then Tweek did something incredible—he sat up straight, wound his fingers into the hair at the back of Craig's head, and pulled Craig into a kiss. It was shy and gentle, and as Tweek's lips brushed soft and uncertain against Craig's, the desperate longing won out. This tender, coy affection was driving him out of his _mind_. Craig fisted his hand in Tweek's jumble of mismatched buttons, pulling Tweek close and kissing him back, taking over, dominating him. Tweek did it again—that soft, breathless little sigh into Craig's mouth—only this time it was more of a moan, carrying a whole lot more volume, more purpose, more need.

"Fuck, Tweek," Craig breathed as he pulled away. Tweek was flushed with color, his hair even more askew than usual, his delicate pink lips parted as he took shallow, hurried breaths through his mouth. "Are you a virgin?"

This seemed to bring Tweek back to his normal self, replacing the passion in his eyes with fear. "Wha—why? Uh, I mean, yes—I-I am, but—"

"Of course you are," Craig muttered, ruffling his dark hair a bit as he turned everything over in his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tweek shot back, looking a bit hurt.

"Look, Tweek," Craig clasped Tweek's hands in his own, leaning in close, still on his knees as if he were praying. He drew a deep, shuddery breath and said, "Before—before anything happens, I need you to tell me how far you want to go."

Tweek opened his mouth, but seemed unable to speak.

"It didn't really matter to me, but someone like you..." Craig squeezed Tweek's hands. "Your first time should be with someone you love."

Tweek kissed him again, with a little more certainty this time. When he pulled away, the blond wore a small, shy smile. "Maybe... Maybe we should have our date first."

And for the first time in his life, Craig really cared about how this one went. He supposed there was a first time for everything—hell, this was his first time chasing after a guy. Chasing after _Tweek_, for god's sake, he reminded himself. For the first time in many years, things weren't so boring, and he kind of liked it. Being a little gay was pretty damn sweet after all.


End file.
